


grapes of wrath (and kicking every stone that's in our path)

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Fluff, Food, Gen, Jealousy, just a disaster really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can form an alliance in under seven minutes, but it only took her sixty seconds to get jealous- of a grape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	grapes of wrath (and kicking every stone that's in our path)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you haven't read the other installments in this series, I would definitely do that before reading this one. It will all make much more sense. <3  
> Thank you! Enjoy!  
> ~  
> And to those of you who're caught up, thank you so much for sticking with me. This isn't one of my best installments, I'll admit. Allow me to explain.
> 
> I got very ill on the last few days of my trip, and I am still feeling quite awful. I've been running very low on inspiration lately, and it's just not as much fun to write when it's not really in your heart at the moment and you have to stop for a coughing fit every twenty words. I'm extremely sorry for the long wait and the fact that this installment is on the shorter side.
> 
> So I hope this is bearable, and I really hope I can get it together enough to make these last few installments, (yes, you heard me right, it's almost over! hang in there!) as fun for you to read as I can.
> 
> And to all of you who commented such lovely things on the last installment, I LOVE YOU! I read every single one of them and smiled like crazy, but I'm really holding onto my energy by a thread and couldn't find it in myself to reply to each of you individually. I'm so sorry! <3 Trust me, your comments still make grin like a fool every time.
> 
> I love you guys, and please enjoy this installment. 
> 
> Or don't, I can't tell you what to do.

“No, no. Lower.” Clarke demanded, ducking her head away from his hands. He peered over her shoulder to look into the streaked mirror on the wall.

“What the hell do you want?” Murphy groaned, exhausted from an apparently equally restless night, and Clarke snickered at the way he struggled to speak properly through the two hair elastics between his teeth.

“Something nice… we’re attending a feast with the Commander, remember?”

“You’re _going_ to talk about avoiding the mass murder of an entire people. _Your_ people. This isn’t a dinner date, Clarke.”

“Oh, shut the hell up, Murphy. I know that. I just want her to know what she’s missing and-“ Clarke puffed her cheeks and blew a flyaway stand of hair out of her eye. “-will never get back.”

Murphy smirked, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Clarke raised an eyebrow, placing her hands on her hips.

Murphy just sighed, attempting to gather her hair into a ponytail once again.

“ _Sorry,_ I finally pulled the stick out of my ass sometime in the last few months. I learned from the best of them.”

Murphy captured his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting a smile as the elastic slipped off of his fingers and around her hair. “Learned what?” He looped it two more times for tightness, and then motioned for Clarke to look at it in the mirror.

“That’s fine, it’s fine.” Clarke assured, and then paused to consider his question. “You’re kind of fun. I used to be kind of fun. I learned how to get back to that-“ She turned to look at him directly. “-with you.”

Something flashed in his eyes, an emotion that Clarke couldn’t quite decipher, before it had been just a minute too long and she tore her gaze away from his heavy-lidded eyes in favor of the mirror.

“I thought this was more of Raven’s thing, anyways.” He observed, changing the subject quickly and stepping away to admire his handiwork.

“Her ponytail is higher, and not over her shoulder.” Clarke answered almost too soon, mentally shooing away the thickness in the air.

His handiwork was medicore at best.

“You look awful.”

“Oh well.” Clarke chirped, tugging on her jacket and promptly stepping into the cramped bathroom to toss up the rest of her breakfast.

“You’d think she’d be empty by now.” Bellamy mumbled in the doorway, and Murphy jumped, having forgotten that Bellamy was coming to escort her.

“She’s nervous.” After a beat, Murphy added, “I know you think she’s a princess and all, but an escort? She can follow the scouts just as well as you and I can.”

“You jealous?” Bellamy teased, and Murphy huffed, plopping down on the cot to tie his boots.

The curly-haired man rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m basically just a bodyguard. If someone decides they’re angry with her, I’m the poor idiot who takes the blows instead.”

The younger boy scoffed. “I could do that. I’ve been a punching bag practically my whole life.” He gave Bellamy a nasty side-eyed glare. “You should know.”

Bellamy sighed, proceeding to move with ease to where the other boy sat. When he didn’t respond, continuing to fumble with his laces, Bellamy’s foot rose to an unsuspecting Murphy’s side, effectively shoving him off of the cot and onto the floor.

“We’re looking for someone who can restrain the attacker, as well. Sorry Pipsqueak.”

“Bastard!” Murphy shouted at the laughing figure retreating down the hall, and Clarke stood smiling in the doorway.

“I appreciate the effort, knight in shining armor.”

“He just caught me off-guard! I pulled that asshole and _company_ up the side of a cliff basically _single-handedly_ and he knows as much!”

Clarke poked at his bicep, and Murphy squirmed. “Over four months ago you did. You’ve kind of let yourself go, Hercules.”

He swatted her hands away, jumping to his feet so he was looking down at her instead. “I could still protect you better than _him!_ ”

She quirked an eyebrow, stepping into her boots without breaking eye contact. “And how is that?”

“My- I- uh- he doesn’t-“

“He talks better than you, too.” Clarke mumbled, looking pleased with herself.

Murphy threw his hands in the air with exasperation, raising his voice. “He tries to be all, you know- calm and collected and that shit! _I_ , however, my- uh- _my_ passion burns very near to the surface.”

“You mean you have a temper.” Clarke corrected, picking up his jacket off the floor and dismissing the dust from the fabric with a shake.

He stammered, spouting out hopeless objections and ending his timely outburst with muttered obscenities.

“Ready to go?” Bellamy asked, cracking the door to the bleak compartment open.

Clarke forced Murphy’s coat on him, even though he had stubbbornly insisted that he didn’t need it.

“It could be cold!” She chided as he folded his arms over his chest like a child.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Fitting.”

 _That_ got the jacket on.

“Now we are.” Clarke grinned, but they could all tell that she was nervous, if the inside out shirt and her unbalanced stance was anything to go by. Not to mention the vomiting, which was often and plenty.

Bellamy held the door open for them, stifling a grin as Clarke reached out to fix Murphy’s collar and had her hands immediately slapped away.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

-

Clarke’s mother and Marcus Kane walked hand in hand ahead of her, which had taken her by surprise until Bellamy informed her on the latest gossip. She couldn’t even be upset about it, about her father. It was the Ground. This was a different world.

Her mother was happy. That was enough.

Raven tripped and Wick steadied her, the last of Clarke’s company to the meeting, mainly because Raven had begged to get out of camp and Wick had attached himself to her hip.

“Like a parasite.” Murphy had so helpfully decided earlier in the day.

Clarke squinted as the sun peeked through an opening in the trees surrounding them, forcing her gaze away from the genius-couple and to her left, the eldest Blake.

“So, your sister still hates me.” Clarke whispered, leaning into his side slightly.

“What makes you think so?” Bellamy asked quietly, and Clarke shrugged. “Really aggressive staring when I tried to talk to her in the mess hall.”

“I think that’s just her thing now, but, I’ll talk to her.”

“Would you?”

He nodded, and Clarke reached out to squeeze his arm affectionately. “Thank you.”

He separated from her hurriedly, pulling his arm away and smiling uncomfortably, and Clarke worried her bottom lip.They were tied together by a very frayed metaphorical friendship rope, and she was tugging too hard.

She glanced at the other boy, watching the way his brown hair swayed with his steps and bounced when he stumbled.

It was different with him. The ends of their rope was around their necks, which, unfortunately for one of them, seemed to be a common occurrence, even moreso literally.

If their rope broke, they went with it. At least, for Clarke it did.

He walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, kicking a dusty stone down the path as they went. He looked incredibly sullen, glancing around with an angry look on his face as everyone else walked in pairs and chatted to take their minds off of the strenuous, seemingly never-ending marching.

Clarke shared a look with Bellamy as Murphy grumbled quietly to himself about horse-shit on his boots, and Bellamy sighed.

He knew his duty here.

Clarke beamed as he jammed his hands in his pants pockets to mirror Murphy, and stole the rock away from him.

Murphy looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What’re you doing?”

Bellamy remained unresponsive, kicking the stone to his other foot when Murphy stretched his leg to reach for it.

“Like taking candy from a baby.”  The older boy mused, nudging Murphy’s boot away from the rock and kicking it farther.

Murphy glanced at him with a devilish grin.

“You’re on.”

-

Clarke could say she felt responsible to stop them when the two ended up the ground, shoving and kicking at each other to be the one to retrieve a god damned pebble, but it was more fun to watch.

-

“Clarke of the Sky People. It is pleasing to be in your presence once more.”

“Commander.” Clarke nodded, approaching the table without permission.

Lexa was visibly knocked down a peg, and Bellamy shot daggers at a snickering Murphy.

“We shall indulge in the feast set out for us, and discuss afterwards. If that meets your liking.”

“Let’s discuss now.” The blonde demanded with a bitter smile on her lips.

The Commander blinked, lifting her chin.

“If that meets your liking.”

Out of the corner of her eye she watched as Bellamy clapped a heavy hand over Murphy’s giggling mouth and dragged him behind Kane.

“It does.” The Commander maintained her dignity as she settled in one of the spruce chairs and folded her hands in her lap.

Formalities, Clarke decided, plunking her elbows on the table and leaning forward over a decorative plate as she prepared to negotiate.

Everyone moved forward and found their seats, save for the Grounder guards surrounding them.

Those Grounders always had a way of making the atmosphere friendly.

“You understand why you were summoned here from your travels, I presume.”

“You presume correctly. I’ll get right to the point. I want my people to stay where they are, safely.”

“I understand that, but the land you Sky People inhabit currently is claimed by the clans.” The Commander never broke her stare.

Clarke ignored the sound of a Murphy in the background, harshly whispering “Piss off.” to a Grounder who had most likely gotten a bit too close for comfort.

“Commander, if I remember correctly, you dishonored our alliance in favor of entering one with the enemy, and left my people, who made it possible for you to even reach the mountain without losing your entire army to the fog, to be slaughtered. Didn’t you?”

The brunette blinked, eyes disappearing in a sea of warpaint, and Clarke rose to her feet.

 _“Didn’t you?!”_ She shouted, and several frighteningly large Grounders rushed to surround her. She noticed both boys tense up to her right, and out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother attempting to stare down one of the more heavily-tattooed men, three times her size.

The Commander’s face immediately went from unusually meek to it’s usual storminess. _“Chil daun.”_ She ordered of her guards, and they returned to their places along the inner walls. She turned her gaze to the youngest Griffin, piercing daggers into blue eyes.

“I did what I needed to do to save my people. Is that not precisely what you intended to do when you ended the enemy’s reign?”

“You mean when I killed them? When I murdered every last man, woman and child in that mountain?”

Clarke knew every eye in the room was on her, but in that moment, it was only herself, and her ghosts.

“Do you think I _wanted_ to do that? Would I have had to pull that lever if you had remained loyal and stayed with your army? Would I have all of this blood on my hands even if you weren’t a traitor, even-“

 _“Enough!”_ Lexa practically growled, but Clarke could see every ounce of guilt dripping off of her like sweat, “This is not what we came to discuss. You’re here to tell me why the Tri Kru should allow you to keep the land that you’ve stolen from us to inhabit.”

Clarke barked out a bitter laugh. “I think I just did.”

-

Murphy looked down at the food in his possession as they walked back to Camp Jaha, on land that now belonged to the Sky People.

 An apology, of sorts.

The land on which Camp Jaha found home and the open area surrounding it now belonged exclusively to the Sky People, and they were to share the wooded areas from Sky People’s land stretching out to end at a Grounder village in any direction and any bodies of water within them- with the Tri Kru. A truce had been put in place, and any Grounder found causing harm or death to a Sky Person, and vice versa, were to be punished accordingly.

Clarke almost grinned. She finally did something right. She finally saved lives without losing any.

“I can’t believe they let us take leftovers.” Murphy muttered into the coiled sumac basket, and Clarke chuckled as the gates came into view.

“What did you get?” Clarke asked as Bellamy reached into Murphy’s basket and popped one in his mouth.

“Some kind of fruit, I think. Looked cool. I didn’t get any while we were there, so- _Bellamy!”_   Murphy swatted the other man’s hands away, and Bellamy grinned through a mouthful, walking ahead of them.

“They’re called grapes, idiot!”

Murphy held up an offending finger to Bellamy,who just rolled his eyes and turned around to wave at Octavia through the fence.

“I saw you talking to Lexa after the feast, what was that about?”

Clarke sighed as her first response, she had been hoping he wouldn’t ask.

“She wanted me to know that it wasn’t personal, it was war, which I think is bullshit.”

“Of course.” Murphy nodded quickly. “Was she trying to get back with you?”

Clarke huffed. She should never have told him about the kiss.

“She’s not stupid. She said she was sorry a few times but I _might’ve_ refused to shake her hand.”

Murphy smirked. “Atta girl.”

“Do you think she made me come all the way back here just so she could apologize?”

He just shrugged and made a beeline for their compartment, leaving Clarke with that annoying thought nagging at her, unanswered.

She blinked, confused, when she turned to find Raven kissing Wick on the cheek to take off, slowly but surely, after Murphy.

“Where is she going?”

Wick shrugged. “Said she had plans with someone.”

-

Clarke swiped her keycard and nudged the door open silently, peeking into their living quarters. A smile immediately crawled onto her lips.

Murphy and Raven sat crosslegged on the floor, and he tossed another grape into her open mouth.

“There were motorcycles?” She asked, wide-eyed and flicking one of the little purplish-red fruits into the air. It bounced off of his nose and they laughed as he crawled under the cot to retrieve it, placing it in a pile of dirty or squished ones between them. Clarke cringed.

“Yeah, they were like, red. And really clean. Two of ‘em.”

Raven sighed dreamily. “What I wouldn’t give to get one of those babies up and running.”

Murphy tossed another, but he overshot and it hit her in the eye, and then rolled down to fall into her shirt. They giggled like little kids as she patted around and shook her shirt, and he picked it up when it rolled onto the floor. Clarke focused on his face, and noticed the way his eyes softened as Raven laughed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.

Why didn’t he look at her like that anymore? And why hadn’t he told her he was friends with Raven now? Whatever happened to him calling her “The Wicked Bitch of the West”? Why wasn’t she invited to the fruit Olympics- in her _own_ compartment?

_He liked that sorry excuse for a berry better than her._

Suddenly, someone came barreling into her from behind, attempting to catch her as they fell through the doorway and into the compartment.

“Clarke?”

“Bellamy?”

“Were you guys watching us-“

“Shut up! Not now-“ Bellamy shouted, scrambling to get up and pull a dazed blonde with him. “You guys have to come with me!”

“Bellamy, what’s going on?” Raven demanded, and Bellamy looked up from under the chocolate curls falling in his eyes.

“Jasper’s up.”

 

 


End file.
